


For His Lady

by Imagine28



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: 007 likes Moneypenny, Awesome Eve Moneypenny, Canon-Typical Violence, Denial of Feelings, Eventual Relationships, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-08-08 16:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7764898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagine28/pseuds/Imagine28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't know how to admit he might have feelings for a certain woman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

How to admit this to himself. He couldn't, it was not possible. He had sworn, he had vowed that it would never, never happen again. His love had died and his heart and his ability to love with her. He had made himself cold, he had made his heart unreachable, and he had killed to make himself a cold bastard, to make himself immune to love.

But that wasn't true. He should admit he had a few vices and loved a few things. Drink, he could admit he was a drinker. Guns, though he got rusty once, he still loved the sure sensation of holding and using his weapon. Sex, he had to admit that he entertained himself and reached a sort of catharsis through the act of making love. M.

He had loved M. And now she was dead and gone, he couldn't save her, just like he had not been able to save his love from the Venetian water.

Perhaps, after Vesper, that was why he had engrossed himself in drink, guns, and sex. If he couldn't be human, if he couldn't have a soul, he would bloody well pretend he did, and flirt and flatter, and make love to a woman. He supposed he needed to add women to his list of loved vices.

Women, so beautifully made, of all races, of all ethnicities, with charm and grace and character and curves and warmth, and womanly softness to fill his bed, to fill his nights, to be intimate with and adoring and pretend. He loved them. All of them.

And this is what worried him particularly because there was one woman among them whom he had never touched... and yet he was afraid of her. This woman with beautiful dark skin, and gorgeous ebony curls, and her warm, always sparkling caramel colored eyes that drew him in and yet warned him away. He was afraid because not only was she beautiful, and smart. Not because she could keep up with him, and not because he knew she had almost killed him with a stray bullet. He was afraid because he was probably more than slightly infatuated with her, and he wasn't exactly sure what that meant.

He would flirt and she would smile and lean towards him and flirt with him. He would flatter and he could swear she blushed, but she'd step out of his reach again and smile at his futile attempts to charm.

He tried talking, -more like bantering and then a little hinting,- about it with Q and the younger man just looked at him like he was crazy.

"This is entirely unprofessional, Bond. Are you actually telling me, that you like Moneypenny? Because you've never slept with her?"

And all he had to do was turn and glare at Q and the quartermaster blinked, swallowed, looked away and changed the topic of conversation. Q would confront him about anything but never that.

He was at a loss of what to do. There was absolutely no way he could talk to her about it because.. Well... What the bloody hell would he say?

So he spent his days in the field thinking about her and sometimes bringing her gifts. He would bring small souvenirs, expensive necklaces or earrings, pretty dresses, and the like, all in small gift boxes for discretion, of course. And if anyone looked at him strangely or if he heard whispers, a sharp look or even a small scowl would end it and that was that.

Then came the day he knew would come and though he tried dissuading her, he knew he couldn't change her mind. He tried stalling her, tried to intimidate her into not doing it by telling gruesome stories, but in her chocolate eyes he saw only a fiery determination. He tried being frank in a charming sort of way, telling her it wasn't for everybody, but it only seemed to encourage her even more.

She wanted to go out in the field again.

There wasn't a single bloody thing he could do about it.

Hell, he had already tried talking to Mallory about it, -he couldn't call him M yet, it felt utterly wrong,- but the man only frowned, puzzled, and he decided not to push too hard.

They sent her out and wherever he was in the world he was nervous for her. He knew well enough she could take care of herself, yet this was no comfort to him. He tried telling himself, while he was at a dirty bar in Germany and she was in Sudan, that she would be just fine, that she could do her job and do it well and that she would be alright. But he didn't go dark anymore, he kept himself on MI6's radar, in case something happened to her and she needed him.

Q noticed, the wanker. When he was giving him another one of those little distress radios, he talked to him about it.

"Not that anybody minds, 007, but.. You sure stay in contact a lot more." Q regarded him carefully and he smiled at him, choosing not to reply.

How could he, when all he could think about was her. When he seduced a woman, he thought of her. When he looked over his shoulder, he imagined her doing the same. When he attached the silencer to his gun, he prayed her aim was true. When his scarred chest occasionally hurt, he hoped she would tend to her wounds. When he shaved, he remembered her looking exquisite in a red dress. He stayed in contact for her. For the lady.


	2. Chapter 2

What he had never expected that would come out of him staying in constant contact, was him having to pull out of Argentina to fly back and report to London.

When he arrived to Headquarters, Moneypenny was apparently waiting for him. She was wearing a lavender colored dress he had gifted her and she looked beautiful.

He smiled, deciding to flatter. "You look lovely."

She smiled in return and though he'd seen many other pretty women, her smile was his favorite.

"M is waiting for us," she said turning and waiting for him to follow.

Cursing his romantic thoughts, he hurried to walk beside her. "And what could he want us for?"

"Maybe, he thought we made a good team in Shanghai. Before you left on your own, I mean."

He stopped walking at this and she turned to look at him expectantly. He examined her closely, smirking a little. Was that a hint of jealousy in her chocolate eyes?

"We did make a good team. Didn't we?" He started walking to Mallory's office again and this time she had to hurry to walk beside him.

-~-~-~-~

"Lovely of you to show up, Bond," Mallory said with an expressionless face. "Please, take a seat," and he made himself comfortable in his own chair while Bond eased himself onto the chair beside her, leaning towards her in his sharp gray suit.

"Alright, what was so bloody important that I had to leave an international terrorist behind in Argentina?"

"Tom Scott," Mallory gave them each a file. "Served undercover in Beijing from '81 to '95. He was a nuclear physicist, but he got caught, almost killed, before we were able to get him out. His mind broke. He turned traitor, and fled to the United States."

"What was he expecting to find there?" He asked, thinking of ten other places he would have run to instead.

"It's possible that he thought he could make himself some sort of crime lord, a mob boss. Some men just want to watch cities turn to ashes," Mallory offered an explanation.

"What's he doing now?

"He is in Chicago. Yesterday, he managed to smuggle a nuclear missile into the Willis Tower."

"And the CIA?"

"The only thing they know is that there's a British criminal who's run away to Chicago."

"So we're going to go get Scott?" Moneypenny interceded.

Mallory, - M, he was going to have to get accustomed to the name, - nodded, "They can't know he was British Secret Service. It's a shame, and we would like to keep our dignity. Kill him, and for God's sake, don't let the bomb go off."

-~-~-~-~

So now they were in Chicago, playing tourists. Bond cursed M for their cover, two lovers travelling from Kansas up the country towards New York. How lovely, they would even be sharing a room and a bed.

He was actually quite vexed because he was nervous about sharing his quarters with her. He would have to act and pretend that she was just a colleague, that there was only banter and friendliness, that he only cared about getting her into bed with him and would then discard her. When he had Vesper, he didn't pretend, he hadn't had to. Then with all the other women, it had been the opposite, pretend to be infatuated, pretend to be cool and professional yet charming and handsome.

Gah, it just muddled up his mind and confused him. He felt like a foolish teenager, letting it get to him like it was.

Once they touched down in Chicago, they went to their hotel, a modern building with a sleek look, typical of the bigger cities in the United States, yet not as awe-inspiring as London's Shard, or the Gherkin.

He did the talking, because the accent came more naturally to him than it did to her, and she stood in the lobby by their bags, as he got their room, conveniently down the hall from Scott's.

Once they'd settled in, she was making herself comfortable on a chair, reading the file again. He, on the other hand, was standing in front of the window, looking down at the street, contemplating whether or not he should go down to the bar. Feeling pressured and overwhelmed with his job and his inexplicable feelings, Bond met his own brilliant blue stare in the window's reflection.

-~-~-~-~

Only God knew how they had done it, but they did it. He'd held Scott against the missile, twisting an arm behind his back, with only 20 seconds until they were blown to smithereens. Then the deranged rogue agent had suddenly snapped and he'd begged for his life, pleading forgiveness from his country, offering to disable the bomb. He had let him disable it, but of course, by then Scott was the crazy criminal again and shot him in the stomach. Scott had escaped but Moneypenny had saved his bum and finished the job. Then she had found him, bleeding, and she had to help him to his feet and later tended to his wound.

He knew he had lost consciousness, from the pain of the wound, or later from the fever, and he couldn't exactly remember the hours right after. He didn't know what he had possibly said or done while Moneypenny had cared for him. Probably something foolish, and something he would not have done in his right mind. Now that he'd lost his bloody dignity, he didn't know how exactly to remain charming and to later woo her into his mucked up life.

But M was happy with the end result, and dismissed them from his office somewhat merrily.

"Eve." He spoke before she managed to walk away to another mission elsewhere and without him.

She turned to face him, her onyx curls bouncing around her pretty face. "Yes?"

He pushed down the uncertainty with a charming smile. "We made a good team."

She seemed ready to smirk, and he briefly thought she would laugh at him. But she returned with a sweet smile of her own.

"Yes we did," she paused, then added smoothly, "Perhaps we can do it again later."

"That would be lovely." He answered and bid his goodbye.


	3. Chapter 3

Then came the dreaded call he had expected yet prayed would never come.

He had awakened a little hungover in a bed that wasn't his own, lying beside a pretty woman who was very much responsible for getting him drunk and laid the night before. The bloody phone was ringing obnoxiously, contributing to the raging headache that was just starting to announce its presence at his temples. A very agitated Mallory was on the other of the line when he finally answered.

"She's been compromised, that's all I can tell you. You know who I'm talking about. Just get - to London."

And just like that he was very awake and very hurriedly dressing, leaving the hotel room and his beautiful companion behind and hailing a cab to the airport.

The flight wasn't very long, fortunately, but it was long enough for his troubled mind to conjure all sorts of possible scenarios. He feared every single one.

Once he made it to M's office he was told to sit by a pretty blonde. Bond mindlessly nodded and complied, realizing this was her replacement while she had gone out. M came in shortly after, looking worried and relieved at the same time.

"I'm glad you're here, 007. Our agents are being targeted again, I feared you would be too."

"Where is she?" He didn't care about himself being targeted, who was being targeted, he only cared about her and her.

"We don't know. The last time we heard from her was three days ago. Then she was supposed to meet 009 at a rendezvous an hour later." M paused and Bond frowned.

"What happened?"

M went to sit behind his desk and took out an audio recorder from one of the drawers and tapped a button.

Bond heard 009 shouting angrily, the popping of bullets, a grunt and then... nothing. The recorder only emitted static.

He looked up, barely concealing his horror with a clench of his jaw.

"That's when 009 tried contacting us. We don't know if he knew where she was, if he needed backup, or - as you could hear, we don't have much." M stopped talking and the office seemed full of heavy silence.

Bond could tell the other man was worried and he suspected that he knew something else, that he could tell him something else.

"Why was he there? Why didn't you call me?"

"He was closer."

"Pathetic. Give me a better excuse."

M hesitated for a millisecond before drawing in a breath as if he was going to talk, but that millisecond was enough and Bond cut him off.

"You were having her bloody followed," he stated with a quiet fury, choosing to look away from Mallory. Right now he wouldn't be able to stomach the sight of him.

". . . Yes. I was. But for her own safety."

"Her own safety." He resisted the urge to yell.

"It wasn't about her ability to do the job, Bond. It was that I was worried someone would find out who she was."

"You didn't trust her to do her job." Bond was still looking away.

"I need you to get them back."

A dry chuckle, then: "Right. Them. I'm going to risk myself for something that happened because you didn't think it through enough. Is that what you want me to do?"

"Yes. Because you know that you're only a blunt instrument- Ah, yes, Bond, we've all heard the same pet name at some point. Which is why you are going to follow orders and bring both of them back or die trying, are we clear?"

He had turned to face Mallory at the old name calling, his cerulean blue eyes flashing, but still remained silent.

"Are we clear, 007?" M repeated forcefully, raising his eyebrows.

He stood, buttoning his suit closed, "Transparently so, sir."

Q's banter was a much needed relief. And the bloke thankfully delivered, so Bond could pretend for a few minutes that he was here for a regular mission, instead of being here because the only woman left alive whom he cared for was in danger.

"I will have you know this is very expensive equipment, it is a prototype. Please bring it back safely, 007. I need it to make others like it." Q looked at him with a deadpan expression.

"Right, sure, a bloody expensive watch is all I need to survive." He made an effort to smile.

"I'm sure it will come in handy. If you take care of it."

"If I take care of it," he mimicked under his breath.

"I heard that." Q said and Bond pretended that his new watch was suddenly worthy of attention.

"Bond."

"Yes? How do you even set a bloody alarm on this?"

"You swipe left twice, Bond," Q explained then spoke seriously, "Listen."

He sighed softly, but ceased his fidgeting with his new gadget.

"She came here before her last mission."

"And?"

"She said she hadn't seen you. But she also said that about 009."

He accepted the news quietly, with a little bit of jealousy that she had mentioned the younger agent as well. He wasn't too surprised when he admitted it was jealousy, just a bit cross that it managed to upset him. Then his calculative mind refocused on her words. Why would she even mention the other double-oh?

"Is there anymore information you could give me?"

"Sorry. There are some things that can only be known in the field," Q tried alluding to their first conversation, but decided not to mention any trigger pulling.

Bond nodded, and sighed, his shoulders sloped downwards, and he looked tired, worried, and in Q's eyes more ready to give up than he had ever seen a man.

"Bring her back safely, Bond." The younger man said softly, faith laced into his every word. He knew the man's history, having hacked MI6's database, so he knew whom he worked with and more or less what they had done in their work. He knew that Bond had loved, it was plain to see when one was looking, even if the man himself would never admit to it. He knew that Bond had probably mucked up on some missions, but he had always returned, he had always finished the job, and today would be no different.

So 007 pushed back his shoulders, raised his chin and met his Quartermaster's gaze proudly.

"I will."


	4. Chapter 4

A cold lead. That's all he had. But he could work with that.

He started at her last know location, a small market in Rome, where according to M she had arranged to meet 009. It was a respectable place, Bond observed, but the locals were jumpy, nervous. A car nearby sputtered as the exhaust loudly popped to life and he saw more than one person flinch. 

He walked from vendor to vendor, politely asking for the cost of some grapes and vegetables, making something up about a restaurant having a last minute visit from some famous athlete. In his neatly pressed black trousers and fitted white shirt, his story was believable.

He glanced around once, and noticed someone not following the regular patterns of regular people milling around as they found what they wanted to purchase. 

The man stood out too much, he was tall and well built, but he was annoying people, he wasn't buying or even pretending to look for something to buy. 

And then the man met his gaze for a split second too long, guilty recognition making him hesitate before looking away from him.

Bond payed for the grapes, smiling briefly at the friendly vendor, and walked away, luring the man away from the busy marketplace. Bond didn't care if he got hurt in this fight, the only thing that mattered was finding her, and soon.

Finally an alleyway and the man, feeling confident and reckless, shoved Bond into the shadows, whirling him into the wall of a building.

Bond let himself get the wind knocked out of him, dropping the grapes, and smiled a bit cynically as he wheezed. 

"We weren't expecting you." The man said and smirked. Sadistic, Bond noticed. He seemed to enjoy having the upper hand.

"Sorry to disappoint," Bond answered with an icy voice and threw an uppercut at the man's cheekbone. 

The man was too slow to move, though he tried to block and jab at Bond's side.

He threw himself at the man, his attack laced with anger and desperation. 

At last, the man dropped to his hands and knees before Bond, gasped and spit out blood.

From the blows, he'd received, the man had a cut on his cheek that slowly oozed out blood, while every gasp caused his bruised ribs to make him wince.

With ire in his blue eyes and split, bloody knuckles, Bond just stood impassively over the man. "Tell me what you know. And I might let you die quickly."

"You are mistaken if you think I fear death."

Striking quickly and mercilessly, Bond kicked the man into the wall of the alleyway, hearing the thump of his body against stone with satisfaction.

"But just to see you suffer," the man chuckled, "I will tell you the coordinates gladly."

Bond finally took out his gun, checking the magazine before clicking a round into place. "Speak, then," and again to his satisfaction, he saw real fear in the man's eyes.

"There's a warehouse in the outskirts of town, it's been turned into an incognito medical center. You might find what you're looking for there."

"Might, eh?" He raised his arm, aimed at the man's forehead. "I think we can do a little better than might. How did you know someone would come?"

The man raised his hands in defeat and swallowed thickly. "She said the MI6 would take us down. For taking their agents. But not even the CIA came for theirs. Why would Britain? We were wrong."

"Yes. You were wrong." He pulled the trigger, looking down as the man fell over, dead. 

He left the grapes, and walked out of the alleyway as easily as he did out of M's office. Now to find that bloody warehouse.

He found it just like the man had said, though the incognito part was rubbish, pure nonsense. The warehouse was easily identifiable, with its aluminum lined outer walls, and tin roof. Only two guards watching the perimeter, and he'd quickly dispatched them both without the aid of his gun. Working with his hands was an unforeseen refreshment.

He walked inside through a back door and expected a welcome, maybe someone who would ask what the bloody fuck he was doing here, but to his annoyance, nobody was around to greet him. The inside of the warehouse was arranged quite interestingly, as there were plastic cubicles and plastic tunnels that separated one cubicle from the next. 

Bond scowled as he wondered if he'd suddenly stepped into a fucking science fiction show.

Keeping his hands on his gun, he wandered through until he found a person lying on a hospital bed and blanched as he saw the sickly face staring vacantly into space. Red and black spots coloured the boy's skin. 

He kept moving, he did not want to see the horrors of biological weaponry or its experimentations. Whoever was in charge was going to get a bullet in his skull, the sick bastard.

Finally, a woman in a lab suit stumbled into him.

"Hello," he drawled with fearsome charm. 

The woman paled and stuttered at his sudden appearance. "What are you doing here? This is private property."

"Hush, darling. You're wasting my time, just answer my questions and I'll be on my way. Have you seen this woman?" Bond took out a picture M had given him of Eve and held it to the woman's face. 

The woman looked from the picture and back to him, and shook her head. "She's not here. You have to leave! I'm calling security." She turned to enter a cubicle, but Bond grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards him.

"Perhaps you haven't noticed the gun." He twisted her arm behind her back and held her back to his chest with one arm while the other hand pressed the barrel of his Walther PPK to her pulsing temple.

"You said," he spoke lowly next to her ear, "she wasn't here. Tell me then, where she is."

He could feel the poor doctor shaking against him and he waited for an answer.

"This isn't the only facility in Italy, sir. She might be in Florence or - or she might be in the biggest medical center in," her voice hitched again and Bond realized with increasing vexation that she was crying.

"Where?" He shook her harshly. " The biggest medical center - where?"

"Innsbruck." 

"Good. Last question, doctor. How many people do you have here and are they treatable?"

"Almost 50." She sniffled and he dug the gun into her skin harder. "Their virus hasn't incubated past the first stage. There is a cure but - our goal is to get the virus past the treatment stage."

"Thank you, good doctor." He slammed the gun's handle against her temple, maybe a tad harder than strictly necessary, and let her crumple to the floor.

He left the warehouse and headed back to Rome's center, searching for a place where he might find a car to take and make a call as well.

"Roma dipartimento di polizia, qual è il tuo emergenza?" The trained voice of a professional emergency responder answered his phone call.

"About a quarter mile west of exit 37, there's a white aluminum building, hard to miss. Inside there are sick people dying. Please. I think my wife's in there." He spoke quickly in Italian, lacing his voice with panic before hanging up the phone with loud finality.

Now to find a suitable car.

-~-~-~

He made it to the Austrian border and showed a fake identification badge to the border patrol, making up another story about a sick next-of-kin.

He would have never believed himself, had he been the patrol officer, but he silently thanked the man's naivety as he drove past.

He drove quickly and perhaps a little recklessly, his gaze an intense blue with thinly veiled rancor. He pressed his foot down harder on the gas pedal, feeling the car purr louder as he pushed it faster. 

Innsbruck was a lovely city to visit, if Bond could be entitled to an opinion. Unfortunately, his job never allowed to visit any place for mere entertainment, and his visit to Innsbruck was no exception. With a grim expression that made his blue gaze severe, he drove past the center of the city and its richly impressive buildings and headed once more to the outskirts. 

He was hoping to find a warehouse that looked similar to the one in Rome, though he doubted it would appear the same from outside.

Slowing down his borrowed Lamborghini, he spotted a large cabin-looking building that looked too well looked after to be so empty. 

He swerved into the gravel parking lot and decided to go for the straightforward approach. Knock on the front door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, think of Tom Hiddleston for the beginning. And then later, remember Gerard Butler.

* * *

The door opened to reveal a tall, handsome man with short brown curls and cunning blue eyes. The man showed him into a luxurious lobby, decorated expensively to make up for the sterile white clinical doors at the side opposite of the entry door.

"Ah! Mister McHugh, what a lovely surprise!" 009 smiled almost warmly, and Bond nodded in thanks at the persona invented for him.

"Thank you." He resisted the urge to frown, knowing they were being watched from a camera next to the white doors, and managed to conceal his own surprise at finding the fellow double-oh here, undercover.

"I am James Conrad. I'm sure you will be pleased with the progress being made here. Your funding has been essential to the recent breakthroughs."

"I'm sure." Advances in the virus, then, and possible irreversible damage.

009 was wearing a simple dress shirt and gray trousers that accentuated his height. Bond observed that though gifted with handsome features, much like himself, and high cheekbones, 009 had never really fully.. bulked out. He didn't have very broad shoulders and this made him look less threatening. Perhaps it was why 009 could easily pass as a polite, unassuming assistant, all of which Bond would now use to his advantage.

"Tell me more of what's happened since my last update, Mister Conrad." Bond asked with aloof authority. _Is the virus still treatable?_

"It recently came to my attention that you had been involved since the beginning and thus know about our initial problems in finding suitable subjects on which to try the reactant." Abduction of locals, most likely. Unforseen immunity.

009 gave Bond a heavy look tinged with mild sorrow. Bond returned the look with a measure of reassurance. Together they could wreak immeasurable havoc to this place and its mastermind, avenge whatever atrocities 009 had witnessed and been forced to take part in.

As they walked towards the doors, 009 paused, and with a winning smile but solemn warning in his blue eyes said, "Prepare yourself, Mister McHugh, the advances are quite.. astonishing."

The doors opened with the soft whoosh of backwards air flow to prevent anything from going _out_ and Bond sent 009 a questioning glance. It was just a corridor, with door after door and maybe a turn around the corner towards more doors.

"Please follow me, Mister McHugh. The maze of the lab has a tendency to be vexing."

They walked and Bond saw through small glass windows, the same black and red spots on the men, women, and children. But when he paused at the fourth door on his left, there was blood on the floor, and dark bile.

"What's happened here?"

"A regrettable situation, I'm afraid. It appears that the reactant is still quite unstable, killing its victims before we can find a way to spread it to the rest." Bond turned to face 009. _You killed him before he could be tested on._

"I see, and is there a way to prevent another one of these episodes?" he said with apparent nonchalance. _How easily can you get away with what you did?_

009 gave a little smirk before turning to lead Bond further in. "All of the patients are monitored steadily through their vital signs and the cameras in the rooms except for the ones Mister Clyde will show you, as those are still in the very early stages of the reactant. However, due to our remote location, there are irritating instances in which there are minor power shortages. Do not worry, however Mister McHugh, these are very slight; the life support itself of the patients remains intact." _Easily enough_.

"Excellent, I look forward to meeting with Mister Clyde."

009 kept walking and made a right turn into the adjacent hallway where suddenly there were no more doors. Instead plastic curtains and cubicles again.

In the middle of the large room, where the cubicles seemed to form a center, there stood a man on a metal platform, wearing a navy blue suit but no tie. He turned to face them as they walked in and Bond met the man's rugged features and dark blue eyes with indifference.

"Mister Conrad. Who might this be?" He spoke in a pleasantly deep voice with a soft Scottish lilt.

"Mister Clyde, allow me to introduce Thomas McHugh, an early supporter in our work, though I'm afraid he has remained anonymous until now." 009 spoke in soft tones with his hands politely behind his back and Bond only quirked his lips up in a modest smile.

"A pleasure to meet you, Thomas. I thank you for your aid." Clyde made his way down the platform to Bond and shook his hand warmly.

"I assure you the pleasure is mine, Clyde. I admire all the progress you've achieved."

"Aye," Clyde regarded the room with pride. "Countries and nations have been rampaging far too long with each other to notice a subtle weapon such as this one."

"And taking agents was part of the development of your weapon."

Clyde chuckled as he turned towards Bond again, a gleam of weary respect in his eyes. "You've done your research, Thomas. That was a necessary risk. To weaken the government agencies and keep their attention elsewhere. What about you? It is not often I receive guests."

"After realizing you had indeed taken this risk and established yourself as a man with a _purpose_ , I felt it necessary to introduce myself. I'd like to offer my money and services to your cause." Bond offered an explanation on the spot, feeling 009 beside him shift with unease.

"A welcome addition. Perhaps Mister Conrad here, could make a meal so we can arrange this.. partnership."

009 gave a shallow bow and as Clyde turned away, met Bond's gaze with expectancy before walking away to prepare their meal.

"Come with me, Thomas. I would like to show you our newest subject. Taking agents was not part of my original plan, but as it is, I thought perhaps if we could return them with a slightly dormant version of the reactant, the virus, we could cause more damage. Unfortunately, my doctors cannae guarantee such an outcome."

They went back up the metal stairs to the platform and Bond wondered about whatever they would find, but angrily squashed down the curiosity. He didn't want to learn anything about this astute monster and his dangerous schemes. And again, a darkness in his chest a tight, compressed knot next to his heart.

He was so angry.

Clyde showed him what was on the platform with a proud smirk. "This agent was taken just a few days ago."

_She_ was there, her hands tied behind her back to a metal post. She was on her knees, her head hanging limply on her chest, her dark curls in disarray, her skin pale but mottled with bruises. He struggled with himself but remained still even though the only thing he wanted to do was run to her and look into her chocolate eyes, take her into his arms and get her out of here.

"With her," and Clyde _dared_ to flick her with his shoe. "I'm thinking about trying a new strain of our virus. See how it affects this little beauty."

"What about the rest of them? All the ones in gurneys." Bond crossed his arms, trying hard not to look at her.

"These American doctors." Clyde shook his head irritably. "All they want is money. Their medical system is flawed because of that. I keep having to pay them more and more just to get past the immunization stage. I doubt I'll get very far with the ones in the little cubes."

Bond mock grimaced. "That is a shame. I have my own medical center. Perhaps my doctors could do something."

"Now there's an idea. Ah, Mister Conrad. Thanks for your promptness."

"The meal is ready in your office, Mister Clyde." 009 stood at the bottom of the metal stairs and looked from Clyde to Bond.

As Clyde turned to go down the stairs he gave his back to Bond for merely a second. A second was more than enough time and Bond quickly grabbed him to force him to his knees. Before Clyde could even cry out, he had taken his gun out and squeezed the trigger.

Bond let the man slide out of his grip to fall to the side, dead.

He looked down at what had been Clyde with disgust and put his gun back in the waistband of his pants. Bloody psychopaths. 009 looked up at him with an exasperated smile and Bond felt a flicker of annoyance.

"Take care of the doctors and whatever other personnel you find. I'll tend to her." He turned around to crouch in front of Moneypenny and took 009's retreating footsteps as agreement.

Oh, his beautiful friend.

"Hey," he whispered softly, cupping her cheek in his hand to gently raise her head. "Eve, can you hear me, love?"

She mumbled a reply and her eyelids fluttered. She was too warm to the touch. Was she sick too?

"Eve? It's Bond."

"Took you... long..." She opened her eyes to meet his ice blue ones and he tried to smile at her. It was hard for her to keep them open though; he saw her gaze hazy and addled with drugs and fevers.

He heard gunshots not too far away and was suddenly thankful 009 was here to do the job.

"Yes, I'm sorry. But I'm here now." He said to her gently and untied her from the metal post. She fell forward but he was there to catch her and gently turn her to him. She tried grabbing onto his shirt and he moved her legs so she could sit instead of kneel.

"Mm knees.." She moaned softly before going completely limp in his embrace.

"Eve? Eve! Moneypenny, stay with me!" He picked her up into his arms and stood. She was lighter than he imagined. Hadn't it only been three days? How much had she suffered?

"007!" The other double-oh was back saying he had called M and a jet was on the way and could they leave now?

"Yes." He hurried down the stairs, her cheek resting against his bicep while the back of her knees rested on his other forearm. "Tell him we need medical units on that jet."

"It's already been done. I've sent for the local emergency response and they'll arrive here shortly but we need to go now." 009 walked hurriedly beside him as they made their way back to the lobby, a pleasant realm compared to the sickness that surrounded them. "Is she alright?"

"She will be." He spoke with conviction and hope where his heart was worried to feel some yet. For now, he tried to remain detached and professional. For her. He would do it for her.

"Is that Lamborghini yours?" 009 opened the white doors into the lobby and then hurried to open the front door, cool mountain air caressing her hair softly.

"Yes. The keys are in the ignition. You're driving." Short, staccato sentences were all he could manage. She felt frail in his arms, she barely stirred, it seemed her breaths were shallow, too soft to be felt.

009 went to the driver's door, his face grim for Moneypenny and 007, waiting for the fellow agent to get into the backseat so she could rest her head on his lap and so he could be with her, take care of her.

And 009 thought as he revved the engine and raced to the private airstrip, that not even a blind man incapable of seeing 007 would deny the other man's concern, dare he say affection, for the lady.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a happy sort-of ending.

When they boarded the jet, 009 had seemed surprised to see Q waiting for them. Bond, however, was relieved and carried Moneypenny in and put her down gently on the jet's medical bed. Q was young, innovative, and intelligent. If anyone could find out what was wrong with her, it would be him.

"We'll be heading out shortly," Q spoke to Bond while 009 made his way up to help copilot. "It's good to see you back. M will be pleased."

Bond merely nodded and sat down beside Eve's still form. His gaze turned sorrowful as he contemplated her, quiet and seemingly asleep. She had been unresponsive since they had left Clyde and his dreadful clinic.

"Will you be able to tell me what's wrong with her?" Bond turned a suddenly severe blue gaze towards Q.

"I will." From behind them, a cold voice spoke up and the newcomer made her way from the cockpit to Eve. "I'm Doctor Williams. I'll be treating Miss Moneypenny." She checked Eve's pulse, and measured her blood pressure and Bond could not stand her slow calm. "Q came along to assist me. Now if you will, 007, move aside."

Q raised an eyebrow at her brashness and met Bond's gaze with an apologetic look. His blue eyes flashed and Bond stood, straightened to his full height to tower over the small doctor. In his exhaustion and worry and vexation, he could only think of all the ways he could... he sighed.. _restrain_ himself. He stepped away and brushed off his shirt, looking away to quell his anger.

"Of course, Doctor."

* * *

When they arrived to London, they took her away quickly, an aggressive Dr. Williams leading the way off the jet. Q informed them softly that she was going to the nearest hospital and then hurried after the doctor. 009 turned to him and gave a sheepish smile, satisfied that the mission was over, they had their job and had done it well. But Bond couldn't return the smile, and instead watched after her, anguished and worried for her well-being even as he got into a dark car with 009 beside him, headed to MI6 Headquarters.

She had been taken from him. And now he was reminded that his work would take him far from her.

Time passed with little difference to Bond now. He had found an unexpected ally and perhaps partnership with 009. There were times when M assigned them both to a particularly nasty corner of the world and they would make it less threatening. Mission after mission, assignments and operations completed, and yet he had received no word from her.

As he had thought, as he spent time away from her, his morale slipped. His number of fatalities started rising, he spent more time half drunk than sober. He jumped, startled at anything, and once had even pulled his gun at 009, albeit sloppily from the alcohol coursing through his veins. He was starting to draw attention from 009, from Q, from M, and yet he still had not seen her.

But he wasn't a double-oh for nothing. Even with unwanted attention, they all thought he was just tired, that he smelled a bit of alcohol perhaps, but he could always convince them that he was, in fact, sober.

He was given time off, and he made it to his flat in one piece, sleeping what he could, raging at the empty space so devoid of life and color, drinking. Soon his trash bin was overflowing with beer cans, bottles of scotch, wine, whiskey, and he stopped being able to walk in a perfectly straight line. He fiddled with his gun, he played with knives, and kept drinking.

Until Eve showed up at his door.

He was suddenly glad he had taken a shower that morning after spilling oil all over himself in an attempt to make himself breakfast. He opened the door and there she was, a healthy glow to her beautiful smile. He would never admit he hadn't the faintest idea of how to react. He swallowed thickly and felt his throat tighten as he tried to speak.

"Hello." She was the one who broke the silence.

"Hello, come in." Finally, he could talk, and he opened the door wider to let her through.

"I'm sorry," she declined his invitation. "I have to check in with M not too long from now." She seemed nervous and held her hands together in front of her, a natural barrier between them.

"Oh." He leaned against the doorframe with crossed arms and was saddened when she shifted away from him and looked away.

"I have -" She tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "Thank you for - what happened in, I wouldn't be here..." She still wasn't looking up at him. Did she blame herself for what had happened?

He couldn't do it any more. All this time he had tried drinking the worry away, burdening himself with missions and distractions, but now here she was. Alive and well, and beautiful. He did have a soul, he was human, and he hadn't been able to save M or Vesper, but... That was the past.

Slowly, so as not to startle her, he reached out and took her chin, gently raising her head to meet her caramel eyes.

"I have put my life in your hands, and you've never failed me." He took her arms and gently pulled her to him.

"But that was-" A protest. Good. And she was finally looking into his eyes.

"That was not so long ago, love. And I thank you for what happened then." With that he leaned down, his gaze flickering from her eyes to her lips, before he was pressing his lips against hers and she had her hands on his chest, leaning into him.

Her lips were soft and yielding and she tasted of something sweet, as he took his time, slowly, softly kissing her, enjoying the feel of her in his arms, pressed against his body.

He would be damned before he let her leave him and he would go to immeasurable lengths to have her with him. He would do anything for her. For _his_ lady.

She sighed into his mouth with contentment, and he smiled against her lips.

"Stay with me." He begged her and his lady smiled back at him.


End file.
